The College Adventures of a Bare Bunny Barmaid
by Dyzog
Summary: Dressed in bunny ears, high heels, and nothing in between, Mikuru Asahina adapts to serving beer to the college version of the SOS Brigade. It's not as easy as it sounds.
1. Proper Barmaid Attire

.

**The College Adventures of a Nude Bunny Barmaid**

by Dyzog

**Chapter One — Proper Barmaid Attire**

When Haruhi Suzumiya wants something, she finds a way to make it happen. This includes preserving the high school club she created — long after its members' graduation.

The five original members of the SOS Brigade were college kids now, and we all attended the same university. To no one's surprise, Haruhi managed to find another club room, a virtual copy of the one we had at North High. Even the three-story red-brick building looked similar. And when I walked into the SOS Brigade club room, typically similar SOS days unfolded before my eyes.

Granted, there were _some_ differences. Let me explain.

As usual, Yuki sat in the back corner by the window — but she watched Japanese-subtitled Korean romance shows on her iPad instead of reading books.

As usual, Koizumi sat across the table from me — but he now sat behind a Singer sewing machine instead of a random series of game boards. Some new creation — it looked like a shirt or blouse — busied his machine at the moment.

As usual, Haruhi operated the computer at her commander's desk. Instead of one small screen, her desk now held two gigantic LCD monitors that kept her mostly hidden from the rest of us.

"Would you like a beer, Kyon?" a beautiful redhead asked me with a cheerful smile.

As usual, Miss Asahina performed her beverage-serving duties at the side of the room. However, she now stood at a bar instead of a tea set. A shiny triple-head tap jutted out of a silver counter that sat atop a fridge that cooled three kegs of Japan's finest brews.

I laughed to myself. We'd come a long way from Miss Asahina's teas.

Mikuru's cosplay attire had gotten an upgrade as well. Instead of a bulky maid outfit that covered 98% of her body, Mikuru now wore white high heels and red bunny ears. In addition, white detached cuffs graced her wrists, a matching detached white collar adorned her neck, and a red bow tie completed the picture.

I haven't mentioned what she wore in between those items because she literally wore nothing in between. Seriously.

I thought the shock of Haruhi forcing her to go from 98% coverage to 2% coverage might be hard on the girl, but she accepted the upgrade without complaint. In fact, Mikuru took extreme pride in her barmaid uniform.

She kept her heels polished to a shine, her cuffs and collar snow-white, her bow tie immaculate, and her bunny ears flawless. She also kept her red mane full and tangle-free, and her cleanly-shaved body toned and fit.

I often considered how easy it would be for Koizumi to fashion some clothes for the girl — a nice white shirt to attach to the detached collar and cuffs. He'd offered several times. But we'd all gotten used to having our barmaid 98% naked and didn't feel the need to change.

"Can you pour me an Asahi, Miss Asahina?" I loved that line.

"Sure," Mikuru replied with that infectious smile.

She wiggled her firm bare bottom as she bent over to pour my draft. For a small club room, we had a very respectable selection — Asahi, Kirin, and Sapporo.

Mikuru set a frosty mug in front of me. "How are my friends doing today?" I asked her.

"Friends?"

"You know. Elbee and Arbee."

Mikuru giggled. "Check for yourself."

In case you're wondering, Elbee means LB, the initials for left breast. I'm sure you can figure out what Arbee stands for. As I reached forward to inspect Mikuru's "friends," she clasped her wrist behind her back, leaned forward, and arched her back. I squeezed her perfect globes together and planted a kiss on each of her nipples.

"Hey, you two. Get a room," Haruhi shouted while peeking around the screens sitting atop her commander's desk.

"I was simply commending her for exemplary service."

Mikuru straightened with a cute smile. When she turned, I gave her bum a light smack.

Koizumi glanced up from his sewing machine. "You know, I would be more than happy to stitch together a beautiful outfit for Miss Asahina. It might improve Kyon's focus."

"SHUT UP," Haruhi, Mikuru, and I yelled nearly simultaneously — we'd heard his complaints so many times. Seconds later, Koizumi got pummeled by crumpled up balls of paper from me, Yuki, and Haruhi, as well as some balled up wet napkins from the bar area.

"Mikuru's not changing out of that outfit," Haruhi said. "Nothing says mo'e like a blushing bunny barmaid." She put her arm around Mikuru's shoulders and cupped Elbee. "Especially one with boobs like this. There's no other club on campus with a mascot that can match her."

"I can not argue with that." Koizumi gathered up the paper thrown at him and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. "Still, I often find myself longing for a warm, fragrant cup of tea served by Miss Asahina donning a full dress."

Haruhi shook her head. "Pour that boy a Sapporo."

"Okay." Mikuru crouched down to retrieve a chilled mug from the fridge. She topped off Koizumi's draft at the tap and set the beer down next to his Singer. I noticed her serving style included twisting her trunk while subtly bending forward, a move that placed her perfect globes within inches of his face.

When he turned to thank her, a breast impacted his nose. "Those things should be covered," he snapped.

Mikuru straightened with a start and frowned.

He looked up. "Your breasts are far too beautiful to keep on display. None of us are worthy."

"Speak for yourself," Haruhi barked.

Mikuru's frown morphed into a sweet smile at the sincere compliment. As I watched the naked beauty return to her post, I couldn't help but notice a subtle difference in her walk. The swing in her hips was a tad more pronounced, as was the hop in her gait. _What girl doesn__'t love a compliment?_

The rest of the club meeting was uneventful. Haruhi had been playing an online game of Go against some guy named Hikaru. Go is sort of a Japanese version of Chess, though Haruhi tells me it originated in China. It's played on a square board with pieces called stones that look like Mentos. I tried playing Haruhi at first, but she soon learned she'd have more competition if she randomly dropped stones over her back onto the board. As a compromise, I kept Haruhi's real Go board synchronized with the grid on her left computer screen.

From my vantage point at the side of her desk, I couldn't help but notice the silent dynamic occurring in front of my eyes. Mikuru sat on her barstool, posing sexily with legs crossed as she cleaned her glasses and set them on the shelf. She didn't crouch down when she put a couple of cleaned mugs into the fridge. Instead, she bent over at the hips, legs straight, ankles spread, bum high, her breasts dangling — giving Koizumi an awesome view of all her feminine wonder.

Koizumi bit his lip and sighed. He tried his best not to drool by keeping his eyes focused on the socks he was mending, but he couldn't manage it. At one point, he nearly put a needle through his finger. _Payback!_

Mikuru was such a tease. Underneath that sweet innocent exterior resided a girl that knew how to rev a guy's engine, and Koizumi made the perfect target.

I whispered to Haruhi. "I have an idea. Just for fun, let's see what kind of outfit Koizumi can come up with."

Haruhi pinched her chin. "There's no way she's changing her outfit."

"I know that, and you know that, but Koizumi doesn't know that yet. Let's give him some hope."

"To boost his morale?"

"It's what a good leader would do."

Haruhi stood. "I have an announcement to make. Since we have a skilled seamstress in the club—"

"I prefer 'tailor,'" Koizumi interjected.

"Since we have an esteemed tailor in the club with a desire to create an outfit for our mascot, I've decided to let him give it a shot."

"A shot at what?" he asked.

"Make an outfit for Mikuru that rivals what she's wearing now."

"You mean, what she's _not_ wearing now."

"Whatever. You've got till Friday."

Koizumi perked up. "Thank you, Miss Suzumiya. I'll get started on it right away."

For the next four days, we went about our usual club business while Koizumi sewed like the wind. Every now and then, he'd rise to take Mikuru's measurements — legs, hips, breasts, inseam. Then he'd run back to his seat and get to work. The variety of fabrics and colors that cycled through his Singer amazed us, as did the care and determination with which he sewed.

By Friday, he was ready. At the start of our daily meeting, we all left the club room to let Mikuru try on his creation. It took her about fifteen minutes. Twice she asked Koizumi to step in to adjust something. Then she opened the door for the big reveal.

I had to admit, the girl looked absolutely stunning in the rainbow-colored gown he created. As we stood around her, she turned and modeled with a smile.

"What do you think?" Koizumi proudly thrust out his chest.

"I've got to hand it to you." Haruhi ran her hand along the lacy fabric. "You do good work. Any idol would be proud to accept an award on national TV wearing that. But…"

"But?"

"But Mikuru's serving beer. I'd be afraid to let her within twenty feet of the taps right now for fear of staining this masterpiece."

Mikuru nodded.

Haruhi crossed her arms. "Let's run through a quick history lesson." She turned to Mikuru. "How much did you enjoy your job when we switched you from serving tea to serving beer?"

"It was fine at first, till I started spilling."

"How soon after starting your new duties did you start spilling?" Haruhi asked.

"About five minutes. I got beer all over my outfit. After that, I slipped on the floor and tore the fabric."

"You ruined quite a few uniforms after the switch, didn't you?"

"I suppose."

"How did you feel when we exchanged your maid outfit for this bunny suit?"

Mikuru pinched one of her bunny ears. "I felt a little strange at first. This outfit is very revealing after all." Her eyes lit up. "But I learned to love it pretty fast when spills that used to ruin my day turned into no-big-deals because I could simply wipe myself dry." She pointed to her cuffs. "And these rinse out super easy in a glass of water."

Haruhi turned to Koizumi. "Do you see where I'm going with this?"

Koizumi waved his hands. "But that's not any kind of normal bartending outfit. She's essentially serving us beer in the nude."

"Have you ever seen pictures of the swimsuits women wore in the '50s? What do you think people from that era would say if they went to the beach today?"

Koizumi groaned. "They'd probably say all the girls were essentially naked as well."

Haruhi patted Koizumi's shoulder. "Mikuru is a few years ahead of her time. That's all."

"Wheeeeeee!" The base of Mikuru's gown flared out as she spun about. She stopped her spin and faced Koizumi. "This is such a beautiful dress." She looked at her feet. "But I prefer to wear my bunny suit around the taps."

Haruhi pinched the dress fabric. "This thing isn't going to work in here."

Koizumi's visage dropped.

"It's not going to work in the club room," I said. "But there's no reason it can't work on our weekend events."

"It's a little bit flashy for the tea cafe," Haruhi said.

"I don't mind," Mikuru chimed in. "I'd be proud to wear this gown in public."

Koizumi's expression brightened. "You really like it, don't you?"

"I do." She nodded emphatically.

"Let's do this," I said. "Since Koizumi has a passion for sewing, why don't we let him create new outfits for Mikuru that she briefly models for us during the week and wears in public on weekends."

Now Hauhi's eyes lit up. "We could add a section to our web site for that. 'Mikuru's Fashion Selection of the Week.' It has potential."

_And the school won__'t censor it, _I wanted to add. Haruhi once considered posting pictures of Mikuru in her bartending uniform, but I put a quash on that.

"Now that that's settled, would anyone like a beer?" Mikuru smiled cheerfully.

"I could definitely go for my usual," I said.

Haruhi nodded. "Sign me up."

"One Kirin, please," Yuki said.

"I'm actually a bit thirsty myself. Dressmaking is hard work." Koizumi took his seat behind his sewing machine. We all turned and stared at him. "Oh… right." He rose and trotted out the door.

We all stood in the hallway while Mikuru "got dressed."

Five minutes later, with her beautiful new gown hanging from a golden hanger, Mikuru served us our beers in her bunny suit. As she bent forward to set a frosty mug of Asahi beer before me, my hand ran up the back of her thigh and rubbed her firm bare bottom. "Thanks for the beer," I said. "And you look phenomenal."

Mikuru winked and wiggled her hips.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Some of you might recognize this story as a rewrite of one I posted a few years ago. Let me know what you think. ****Also, a big 'Thank You' to Pierce for creating the awesome Mikuru character gracing the book cover for this story.**


	2. Biting the Bullet

.

**Chapter 2: Biting the Bullet**

My Accounting 101 lecture bored me to tears. Debits and credits. Cash flows and balance sheets. Who cares about this stuff?

Then Mikuru's text message shook my phone. The message read, _Bad news. Need cigar again._

I laughed under my breath. Would that girl ever learn?

_Got box full,_ I texted back a minute later, trying hard to keep my actions hidden since texting during class was prohibited. _Time?_

_3PM?_

A nearby wall clock read 1:55. No problem. The class was winding down. _See you then_.

For Mikuru Asahina, c-i-g-a-r spelled bad news. For me, not so much. My day had improved by an order of magnitude.

I checked my digital calendar. Since our college class schedules weren't as structured as those at North High, club meeting times varied. Today's SOS Brigade meeting was scheduled to start at 5 PM, meaning a 3 PM meeting time gave Mikuru and me two full hours to take care of business.

The walk across campus invigorated me. In fact, it took will power to keep from jogging. I opened the rear door of the red brick building and scaled the steps to the third floor. When I stepped through the club room door, my favorite bunny barmaid stood at her post.

"Thanks for coming early, Kyon." The smiling redhead adjusted one of her bunny ears and grasped a silver tap. "Can I pour you a beer?"

"Sure. The usual would be fine."

"One Asahi, coming up."

When Mikuru turned toward the bar and bent forward to pour the draft, I stepped up behind her. "How are Elbee and Arbee today?" I reached around and cupped her perfect breasts. After three frustrating years in high school, it was a blast to have nearly unlimited access to these babies, so I took advantage of every opportunity I had.

"They're fine." Mikuru wiggled her firm bare bottom into my package and giggled as I squeezed. "Is that a wrench in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

"Sorry." I released her globes and stepped back. "You know how I get."

Mikuru topped off the beer and turned. She shot me a knowing wink and handed me the mug. "You know Miss Suzumiya's rules. No funny business in the club room."

"Don't you consider what we're about to do _funny business?_"

"I view it as a special therapeutic service that I'd only trust to one person in the world."

"And that would be me." I opened my arms and bowed like a prince.

"You're a good friend, Kyon."

"You know why you get these flare-ups, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Mikuru sighed. "You've told me a hundred times." She patted the steel counter resting atop the refrigerator. "It just feels so nice, though. I don't even realize I'm doing it."

Mikuru had developed an unhealthy addiction to the feeling of the counter's cold hard steel against her firm, warm butt cheeks. Breathing warm air over the shiny fridge door would reveal imprints of Mikuru's glorious bottom as well. Personally, I loved the way her habit reddened and chilled her cheeks. Unfortunately, the habit also caused her hemorrhoids to flare.

"Cool steel feels nice on warm skin," I said, "but your inflamed little butthole doesn't feel so nice now, does it?"

The nude beauty set her right foot on my chair and rubbed the crease of her bum with a frown. "No. What I'm feeling down there right now isn't very pleasant."

When it came to dealing with her hyper-inflamed hemorrhoids, Mikuru had two options. Her first option was to stop pressing her ass into the damned bar counter for a couple of weeks and let her poor little butthole heal on its own. She'd tried this method in the past with little success. The chilly metal surface proved too large a magnet for Mikuru's hot little buns.

Her second option was medication. The special hemorrhoid salve Yuki had helped her acquire worked quickly and thoroughly. One treatment left her butthole in pristine condition. Unfortunately, the treatment hurt like a motherfucker.

Those were the choices — two weeks of major self-control versus roughly ten minutes of excruciating pain. Not surprisingly, Mikuru always chose the pain.

"Did you bring the medicine?" I asked.

Mikuru pointed to a package on the table. "Yes, I did. Did you bring the cigar?"

I pulled the cigar out of my pocket and set it next to the box. "You know it."

When it came to helping Mikuru beat back her hemorrhoids, I was a veteran. Since flare-ups occurred with remarkable regularity — once every three or four months — we pretty much had the process down to a science. The cigar was an integral part of the procedure. This cigar wasn't a normal cigar — it wasn't a Cuban someone could light up and puff.

"I really hate this." Mikuru pressed her hands into her face and groaned. After lowering her hands, she presented the sweetest heart-melting smile to the disappointed-parent face staring back at her. "I know, I know. It's all my fault."

I shook my head and chuckled. "Are you ready?"

"Not yet." Mikuru poured herself a Sapporo. "Let's finish a beer or two together first."

"Sure."

While sitting on the table with Mikuru standing next to me — sitting wasn't a good option for her at the moment — I scanned her body from head to toe. "The workout regimen Haruhi put you on is working well. You look incredibly fit."

"Thanks, Kyon. Haruhi and I work out together every morning. That girl puts me through the paces. I have a hard time keeping up with her." She giggled. "To be honest, I can't keep up with her. But I try."

I nodded my understanding.

Mikuru traced her fingertips along the subtle muscle line extending from her breasts to her vagina. "I'm a little concerned about getting too much definition in my abdominal muscles. A six-pack looks great on a guy, but it's not as flattering on a girl."

Oh, the things that matter when you spend much of your day nude on display. To be fair, Haruhi's six-pack abs looked good on her. But Mikuru and Haruhi had different body types. Reaching college-age made these differences more pronounced.

I noted the second Sapporo's impact on Mikuru's inhibitions when she turned around, bent over, and asked, "Kyon, how does it look down there? Be honest."

I put down my beer, knelt behind her, and grasped her butt cheeks. Spreading them revealed the cutest little butthole, though it was swollen and red. "It looks painful," I said. "Are you feeling up to fixing it?" As I moved my index finger down her butt crack toward the swelling, Mikuru winced and clenched her cheeks.

"I don't know."

"In ten minutes, you'll feel like a new girl. Let's get this over with."

"But those ten minutes are murder."

"I'll get the stuff."

Mikuru chugged the rest of her beer and rested her fingertips on the tabletop.

I returned from the closet with a crate containing a pair of scissors, a roll of three-inch-wide packing tape, two lengths of rope, and a shoelace. I transferred the items from the crate to the table before flipping the crate over and setting it on the ground.

Mikuru slid her wrist cuffs toward her hands and turned her back to me. Common sense might have dictated complete removal of the cuffs, collar, bunny ears and heels, but Mikuru's sense of modesty ruled out such extreme measures. She stood straight and grabbed her elbows behind her back.

I wrapped the tape around her forearms, creating a six-inch tub that welded them together.

She winced.

"Too tight?" I asked.

"Nope." She clenched her fists. "The tighter, the better."

Two minutes later, I snuggled the detached cuffs back over her wrists.

Mikuru faced me, fluttered her fingers, and struggled to free her arms. "I'm not getting out of this any time soon. Awesome job as always, Dr. Kyon."

I picked the cigar off the table. I guess I haven't fully explained that yet. The cigar was a dog's chew toy shaped like a real cigar. Don't worry. This cigar never felt a canine's teeth. I bought it strictly for Mikuru. The semi-hard rubber cylinder provided the perfect object for Mikuru to bite down on when I administered the medicine.

Binding Mikuru's arms high behind her back ensured that she couldn't fight me or swat my hands away while the cigar helped her manage the searing pain. Unfortunately, the cigar did little to muffle Mikuru's cries. Fortunately, the club room's walls, door, and windows were pretty thick.

"Open wide."

Mikuru bit into the cigar and smiled sweetly around it. I ran the shoelace behind her neck and tied it around the toy's protruding ends to keep it in place.

"This isn't going to hurt a bit," I lied as I playfully pinched her nipples.

"Wye wiff," Mikuru replied. _I wish_.

"We both know it's gonna hurt like a sonuvabitch." I slid my hands over her hips. "So let's get it over with." I turned her toward the table.

"Oooooowwwww," she squealed when I gently bent her over the center of the tabletop.

"You diva. I haven't even touched you yet."

Mikuru giggled as her breasts and belly compressed on the wooden surface.

I helped her spread her legs as wide as her stance would allow. "That's perfect." Then I tied her ankles to the table legs with the two lengths of rope, forming a wide, inverted 'V'.

Having finished configuring Mikuru, I picked up the medicine box, slid the crate sideways with my foot, and sat down between her legs. Sitting on the crate placed me at the optimal height for the procedure.

_Wow._ I sighed as I inspected the SOS Brigade mascot's glorious private area once again.

_Back to work. _I ripped open the medicine box and checked its contents. As always, it contained a silver tube of ointment and a pickle-shaped applicator. I picked up the tube, removed the cap, and sniffed. Considering the amount of pain this stuff induced, it smelled really flowery. I picked up the pickle, a rather flimsy hollow plastic thing that didn't have much weight to it, and ran my fingertip along its ribbed surface.

Mikuru's legs and buttocks tensed. She started crying. And I hadn't even touched her yet.

I placed a dab of the clear ointment on my index finger. The whole tube was destined to go into her, and this dab represented the first small bit. The stuff always felt surprisingly cool to the touch. "Here it comes." I moved my finger into Mikuru's well-spread cheeks.

The redhead bucked and screamed the instant ointment made contact with her butthole. Instinctively, she tried to close her legs, but the ropes held her in place.

"Don't fight it," I said. "Just bite down hard."

Mikuru whimpered and bucked as I applied additional ointment with a slow circular motion. Her poor little anus was very hard.

It usually took a couple of minutes of rubbing for Mikuru's butthole to loosen up a bit. For some reason, it seemed to take longer than usual today — though we were still making much better progress than our longest hemorrhoid-clearing session. That one occurred last winter. Mikuru had let things get really bad, and the process took nearly an hour.

As I anointed the inflammation, the helpless girl shook and growled, then whimpered and cried, all the while biting down hard on the cigar. It reminded me of the saying, "You've got to bite the bullet." The saying originated in the old days when a doctor would advise someone getting a limb amputated to bite down on a lead bullet while he worked a rusty saw. They must have had very hard teeth back then.

In case you're wondering, we did try the procedure using a topical anesthetic once, but that didn't work. It seems the body's reactions and contractions in response to the pain were an integral part of the super-rapid healing process. I'd never seen Mikuru so angry with herself when we had to repeat the procedure the next day. It really took a lot out of her. Performing this ritual once a quarter already pushed her limits.

After five minutes of ointment application, Mikuru's anus was ready for the second step. She'd adapted to the current level of pain, and her butthole had adequately loosened. Step two involved inserting my finger to apply the ointment deeper inside.

"Here I come." I pushed my index finger into her hole.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH." Mikuru screamed, shook, and bit down hard. Her arms tensed, her fists clenched, and her back arched. "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH," she repeated when I twisted my ointment-coated digit deep inside of her. I fought Mikuru's anal muscles as they tried to pinch me off.

The final step, step three, the pickle, loomed ahead. I felt Mikuru's ass tiring and widening. I checked the tube of ointment — still half full. I would soon insert the pickle. I knew Mikuru dreaded step three above all the others. "It feels like someone's shoving a red hot poker up my bum," she once told me.

I could tell Mikuru was struggling. The procedure usually took less than the ten minutes we'd already invested. Judging from the condition of her anus, though, I knew we'd be at this an extra five minutes at least.

As I prepared the pickle, Mikuru breathed rapidly. She knew what was next. "It's time to insert the applicator." I greased up the tip end of the intruder to start the process.

When I placed the tip against Mikuru's butthole, her powerful reaction knocked me off guard. She reflexively tried to pull her legs into her body, but her bound ankles precluded that motion. Mikuru lost her footing and slid backward off the table. As her bare bottom approached me, I lost my balance on the crate and fell backward as well. With her arms bound behind her back and her legs spread wide, Mikuru couldn't stop herself.

"OOF." I fell off the crate. My butt hit the floor. "OH, SHIT." Mikuru fell back toward me, then, WHAM. She landed on top of me, her butt planting directly on my chest. The pickle hit the ground and bounced a couple of times before stopping near the table leg.

When the dust cleared, I lay on the floor, on my back, knees up. Mikuru sat up straight on my chest, her legs still spread wide to the sides.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

Mikuru glanced over her shoulder and nodded. "Wuh-huh."

"I didn't see that coming."

I started laughing. Mikuru laughed as well. With a good deal of effort, I managed to get out from underneath her. I untied her ankles and helped her stand. She turned to me with teary but bright eyes. She'd taken the accident pretty well. Then again, I did act as a very effective cushion.

"We've got to finish the procedure," I said, "and quickly."

Mikuru returned a determined nod. "Wuh-huh." She knew what was at stake. She definitely didn't want to start the process over again, especially now that we were so far into it.

"Here." I reached for her bunny ears. "Let me fix those." One of them had gotten a little bent.

"Fwank woo," she said.

Mikuru turned toward the table. As I stepped forward to help her bend down… CRUNCH. I stepped on the pickle, crushing it into a million pieces.

"Oh shit, Mikuru. I just destroyed the applicator."

She looked down at the mess of broken plastic and let out a sad panicked whine.

"Don't worry, I'll think of something." I looked around. "Do you have another box?"

Mikuru shook her head. "Uh-uh."

"Damn."

What was I going to do? I glanced at Mikuru's bum. I could almost feel her anus contracting. If I didn't resume the process soon, we'd lose all the ground we'd already gained.

I picked up some pickle pieces. In order to complete the process, I needed to find a makeshift applicator — something cylindrical, long and hard, preferably with a rounded tip.

Yes, I know what you're all thinking.

To tell the truth, the thought crossed my mind too. My cock was certainly hard enough. Let's be honest, it had been from the start. But I didn't want to grease it up because I had no idea what the salve would do to me. My far less sensitive ointment-spreading finger often tingled for weeks. The stuff might numb my cock for months. Also, the pickle applicator was lightly ribbed. I didn't know how important ribbing was to the procedure, but I didn't want to fuck this up.

Then it hit me. I could do this — if Mikuru played along. I ran to Haruhi's desk and rummaged through her drawer. Out of concern for her subordinates' sexual health, she often stocked a random assortment of condoms we could take on dates. I was pretty sure she still had a few.

BINGO. I found a box of Trojans. And they were ribbed.

I returned to the table. "Mikuru, would it be okay with you if I used my penis as an applicator? I can cover myself with one of these ribbed condoms. I'll be a bit bigger than the pickle, but it should have the same effect. I'm guessing it won't be any more painful at this point."

Mikuru giggled and nodded.

I bent her over the table again but didn't think it would be necessary to tie her ankles to the table legs. I removed my pants and boxers, rolled on a fresh ribbed condom, and liberally coated my cock with ointment.

"Okay," I said. "Try to relax."

Mikuru took a deep breath. As I feared, the going was a little rough at first. Mikuru's ass was very tight. Once again, her shoulders tensed and her fists clenched as I slowly pushed my applicator further into her ass. She didn't scream, though her eyes clamped shut and the cigar bent in her mouth.

I slowly pushed myself deep inside the girl and then, just as slowly, backed out. I could feel the condom's ribs rubbing her anal wall. Though I sensed she still experienced intense pain, her muscles seemed to relax. Eventually, we settled into a nice even rhythm, one that seemed to work for both of us. Occasionally, I'd pull out a tad to add ointment.

Her body absorbed the medicine quickly and completely. To my surprise, this new method worked far better than the pickle ever had. The warmth emanating from my penis made a huge difference.

By the time I'd squeezed the medicine tube dry, my own tube felt ready to explode. From my perspective, the process had been ridiculously pleasurable. When I examined my patient, I noticed that she was leaking as well. Juices had never flowed from her vagina when I worked from my crate.

As I neared the edge of the cliff, I maneuvered my fingers over Mikuru's clitoris. When I rubbed, Mikuru convulsed like a bolt of lightning had struck her. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH," she screamed as her back arched, lifting her breasts off the table. Mikuru's insides throbbed. Her ass sucked me in and grasped me like it was hanging on for dear life.

"OHHHH SHHHIIIIIIIIIIT," I shouted in response to the amazing sensations. I started climaxing powerfully as well.

Wave after wave of pleasure swept over us. The ground shook. The lights flickered. I nearly passed out.

When the tremors finally subsided, I collapsed on her back exhausted.

The procedure was complete. Was it a success, though?

I eased my cock out of Mikuru's ass, removed the condom, and wiped myself clean. Then I knelt behind the girl and cleaned her as I inspected her. Her butthole looked perfect. Nice and pink. No redness at all. Yuki's miracle medicine had worked its magic once again.

"How do you feel?" I helped Mikuru stand and removed the cigar from her mouth.

She met my eyes. "You did it, Kyon, and your applicator felt wonderful inside me... once I got used to it." She glanced away as the hue of her cheeks started turning a fiery red.

"Everything looks shipshape down below. Let's get that tape off your arms." I placed my hands on Mikuru's hips and tried to turn her, but she resisted my guidance. Instead, she lifted her chin and looked me deep in the eyes with an expression that said, _Not yet._

It took me a moment to catch on, but soon knowing smiles formed on our lips. I pulled the glowing naked bunny girl close and wrapped my arms around her waist. We tilted our heads to the side, and our smiling lips came together. Mikuru moaned gleefully as our mouths fused and our tongues intertwined.

Her beaming magical smile greeted me when we parted. Then her eyes widened when something poked her. "Oh, my."

Mikuru was bare, I was bottomless, and we'd just shared an amazing kiss. I was a healthy college guy. What do you think happened?

"It's a safe day for me." She turned to lean over the table.

Once again, I helped bend her all the way down. My cock easily slid into her love canal, and we found a happy rhythm. Though her arms were still tightly bound behind her back, Mikuru moaned agreeably and her fingers fluttered.

It was quite a contrast.

We slowly ramped up to another incredible climax.

###

"Yo, Mikuru," Haruhi shouted two hours later from the digital Go board. "Get me another Kirin." Haruhi turned to me and tapped on the computer screen. "I got him on the run. There's no way the little bastard's going to beat me now."

I nodded, mostly to make Haruhi happy. From my perch next to her at the commander's desk again, I had no idea whether her opponent was panicking or not.

Our lovely barmaid filled Haruhi's glass and set it on a tray. "Another Asahi for you, Kyon?"

"I'll have another if Koizumi has another."

Koizumi peeked over his sewing machine and lifted his mug. "Sign me up."

Nagato raised her hand. "A Sapporo, please."

Mikuru served our beers with a bright, cheerful smile. And no, I did not touch Elbee or Arbee when she served me, though I did closely monitor her bum when she returned to her post at the bar.

Knowing I was watching her (while computer monitors obstructed Haruhi's view), Mikuru rested her elbows on her stool, arched her back, and pressed her firm bare backside into the refrigerator's chilly silver door. As her breasts dangled invitingly, she wiggled her hips and sighed.


	3. Upgrades

.

**Chapter Three: Upgrades**

After my memorable hemorrhoid-clearing session with Mikuru, I consulted with Yuki about the salve and my alternative application method.

"You were wise to use a condom," she told me, "and fortunate the condom didn't break."

As I feared, that stuff would have numbed my dick for weeks. Yuki told me about a better way to manage Mikuru's problem, one that didn't require so much drama and pain. When I expressed my interest, she handed me a bottle of tiny green pills.

"The proper dosage is one tablet per day," she told me.

"Why didn't you give this to Mikuru in the first place?" I asked. "If one pill per day would have fixed her hemorrhoid problems, I'm sure she would have jumped on it instead of suffering through quarterly sessions of searing anal pain."

"The pills aren't for her. They're for you. Take one capsule daily and penetrate her anally at least once per week."

I examined the bottle. "What kind of medicine is this?"

"The capsules contain genetically modified flakes of dehydrated Kikamichi lettuce. They will enhance your semen."

I shook the bottle. "Cool. But isn't there a pill you can give _her?_ I'm sure she'll ask."

"Topical ailments require topical treatments."

"That makes sense. Since she creates the problem by pressing her butt into freezing steel, the remedy has to address the outer problem." I popped a pill into my mouth. It tasted like kale. "And you're sure weekly anal cream pies will do the trick?"

She nodded.

It sounded too good to be true. "Are there any side-effects?"

"No. However, Miss Asahina may become addicted to her medication."

"I can live with that."

When I met Mikuru in the cafeteria and told her about Yuki's solution, she hopped up and down like she'd won the lottery. "Have you taken a pill already?"

"I have indeed."

She winked. "Three o'clock in the clubroom, okay?"

As fortune would have it, my schedule was clear. "Three it is."

Though I could have bent her over and butt-fucked her anywhere on campus, Mikuru insisted we stick with the proven protocol. We'd perform all our medicating sessions in the clubroom with Mikuru properly dressed, gagged, and restrained.

"If there's one thing my studies of history have taught me," she said, "it's that one should make changes cautiously and gradually. It's the big shocks that'll get you in trouble."

This sounded odd coming from Mikuru, a member of the SOS Brigade, a group whose leader did nothing cautiously or gradually. At present, we all took Mikuru's skimpy barmaid bunny outfit for granted, but it was quite a shock when Haruhi first made Mikuru change uniforms.

Haruhi could have taken the gradual route. Week one: a shorter skirt. Week two: short sleeves. Week three: sandals instead of shoes. And so on till Mikuru was nude. But Haruhi didn't do that.

On a Monday, Mikuru poured beer into a mug (and all over herself) while donning her full-length maid outfit. On Tuesday, her barmaid costume consisted of bunny ears and heels — plus the few square inches of fabric covering her wrists and neck.

"Do you remember your training cuffs?" I asked her.

"Oh, yes."

At first, Mikuru couldn't stop covering herself — one arm over her breasts, a hand between her legs. As you might have guessed, her beer serving ability suffered. Haruhi purchased a set of police-grade handcuffs, cuffed Mikuru's arms behind her back, and made her serve beer while shackled.

Mikuru giggled. "I can't believe how badly Miss Suzumiya molested me that first week." Her cheeks reddened. "As I remember, you got in on the act too."

Indeed, I had. But when your leader gives you free rein to tease the heck out of a busty nude babe stripped of the ability to defend herself, what are you going to do?

###

Our hemorrhoid abatement sessions went well. After some trial and error, we fell into a routine. Hemorrhoid maintenance turned from a painful process into an insanely pleasurable one for both of us. I copied the successful script of our breakthrough session with two tweaks. As usual, I taped the nude bunny's arms behind her back, bent her over the table, and roped her ankles to the table legs. In addition, I ditched the cigar and muffled Mikuru's screams with a cloth gag secured by tape. Second, since my penis lacked the slippery quality of the salve, I lubed it up with petroleum jelly before every anal injection.

We met every Wednesday afternoon in the clubroom.

###

After binding and gagging the girl, I eased my shaft deep into her asshole, eliciting the cutest muffled moans. As my dick reached further in, Mikuru opened and clenched her fists while subtly wiggling her hips. The intensity of her moans ramped up to screams as the pace of my thrusts increased.

In my mind, pumping Mikuru simulated blowing up a balloon that never popped. Though fucking Mikuru's ass gave her a ton of pleasure, it never put her over the edge. She required clitoral stimulation to attain orgasm. Once I reached my mind-blowing climax, filled her ass with medicine, and pulled out, Mikuru trembled like a pressure cooker about to blow its lid.

Mikuru's eyes bulged and her breasts bounced as she humped the table edge in search of release that wouldn't come. All the while, medicinal semen oozed out of her butt, coating her hemorrhoids. My sexy, over-pressurized balloon protested into her gag, strained against her ankle ropes, and struggled against the cylinder of tape welding her forearms together behind her back.

I teased her by running my hands along her thighs, bottom, and vaginal lips while never quite touching her clitoris. After just the right amount of torture, I flicked on the vibrator and moved it into place. She arched her back, clenched her fists, and screamed as waves of pleasure rocked her world. Eventually, her explosive deflation tapered off to a trickle, and she collapsed onto the table exhausted.

I left her like that for several minutes. Once her shivering subsided, I pulled the tape away from her lips and took out the cloth.

She smiled brightly. "Thank you, Kyon. That hit the spot." She turned her head, laid her cheek on the tabletop, and breathed peacefully.

"Anytime." I rubbed her lovely bare bottom.

She winked. "I need to clean you up."

"Are you sure?" She still looked so calm and peaceful.

"Set me up."

Our wrap-up routine had changed as well. I untied her ankles, helped her onto her knees, and rested my dick on her tongue. To ensure my semen continued its slow healing trickle out of her ass, Mikuru's arms remained bound behind her back at all times. You might think Mikuru would balk at sucking a dick that just reamed her asshole, but she was fine with it.

"I make sure I'm super clean down there inside and out before all our medication sessions," she informed me. "You could eat off me, it's that pristine."

I never took her up on the offer, but I enjoyed the cleaning sessions. Naturally, her oral efforts elicited another ejaculation. Although Nagato told us taking the medicine orally wouldn't help, we figured it wouldn't hurt either.

###

Several weeks later, we decided tape wasn't going to work. Taping Mikuru's folded arms behind her back once a month never presented a problem. Doing it weekly irritated her skin. Same issue pulling tape off the sensitive skin around her mouth.

I searched a few online adult stores for an alternative but couldn't find anything comparable. They sold arm binders — V-style gloves that enveloped the arms, welding them together at the elbows — but that placed Mikuru's hands above her butt which wasn't optimal.

One site's front page advertised a leather bondage kit that included a ball gag, blindfold, padded wrist cuffs, padded ankle cuffs, a collar, leash, some lengths of chain, and a handful of mini-padlocks. One of the images depicted a naked girl with her wrists clipped together and crossed between her shoulder blades. A short chain connecting her cuffs to her collar enured her wrists stayed high on her back.

When I showed Mikuru this alternative, she told me she was fine with it if the collar and cuffs came in white and the ballgag came in red. I had no idea why she needed this particular color scheme but I wasn't about to argue or complain. For a few extra Yen, the store filled the custom order.

When the bondage kit arrived, Mikuru instantly fell in love with it. The white leather wrist cuffs and collar were a perfect replacement for her cloth detached cuffs and collar. The white leather ankle cuffs pleasantly complimented her heels. Wearing the red ballgag like a necklace created an effect that capably replaced the bowtie.

She modeled the items for me on a Friday in front of the full-length mirror mounted next to the clubroom door. "I want to wear this all the time."

"Instead of the fabric?" I asked.

"Yes." She rubbed the wrist cuff against her cheek.

"What do you say we try it first?"

She ran her fingertip over her anus. "But you just medicated me two days ago." Despite her love for the activity, Mother Nature didn't design people to butt-fuck. (Then again, she probably didn't design them to kiss either.) One week breaks were perfect. Shorter breaks were problematic. "Let's fake it." In other words, _Fuck me conventionally. _

"Works for me." I unzipped my pants.

The kit's mini-padlocks and chains made restraining Mikuru a breeze. I had her arms bound high on her back and her ankles fastened to the table legs in seconds. Though the ballgag didn't suppress her vocal emanations as well as the cloth, it proved adequate — and it looked incredibly sexy stuffing her mouth. Since the kit came with a leash, I clipped it to her collar and tied it off on the opposite side of the table, stifling her ability to lift her torso off the tabletop. We experimented with the blindfold as well.

All in all, we had a blast breaking in the bondage kit. It's versatility let me restrain and fuck Mikuru in a myriad of places and positions throughout the room.

Time flew and our daily club meeting approached. I got dressed while Mikuru kept wearing her new outfit. When it comes to SOS Brigade business, I've learned that it's better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission. I actually wondered if anyone would notice the change.

When Koizumi arrived at the clubroom, he didn't seem to notice. White accessories encircled Mikuru's wrists and neck as they always had and something red ornamented her neck. He took his seat behind his sewing machine and got to work mending a sock.

Yuki didn't notice anything either. To be more accurate, she didn't care. Mikuru could have worn a full hazmat suit and Yuki wouldn't have mentioned it.

Haruhi picked up on it right away. After walking through the door, she did a double-take. "Mikuru, you look amazing." She grabbed the bunny barmaid's hands, looked at her wrists, and examined the ankle cuffs and collar. "This outfit looks absolutely fabulous on you."

"It's waterproof." Mikuru smiled proudly. "Beer will rinse right off if it gets wet."

"And a ballgag?" Haruhi clasped the ball between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it. "What the heck?"

"It's replacing my bowtie."

"I love it." Haruhi stepped up behind Mikuru. "Okay, girl, open wide."

Mikuru obeyed.

Haruhi pushed the gag into Mikuru's mouth and fastened the strap behind her neck. "Is it comfortable?"

"Mngfff-mngff." Mikuru nodded.

Haruhi glanced around. "Aha." She lifted one of the mini-padlocks off of a nearby shelf, pulled Mikuru's arms behind her back, and locked her wrist cuffs together. Using a six-inch chain, she locked Mikuru's ankle cuffs together as well. Haruhi cupped the helpless nude girl's breasts and turned to me. "Kind of brings back old times, doesn't it?"

"It truly does."

Mikuru groaned when Haruhi's thumbs playfully teased her nipples, but her eyes smiled. She spent the rest of the club session shuffling back and forth in her upgraded uniform — serving us beer and getting molested.


End file.
